The Experiment
by wingnut054
Summary: Bella enrolls at an exclusive private school with a whole new identity. She was sent to conduct research by a world-renowned scientist and author. Many adventures await her as she tries to make her way through this crazy school year. Eventual Canon. AH
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

I loosened the tie from around my neck, the smooth silk feeling suddenly like a tight noose. I also unfastened the first couple buttons for good measure. Looking around at the solemn faces in the room, I took a deep breath trying to gather my thoughts. My Aunt sat next to me, twining her fingers nervously over and over. The headmaster sat behind his impressive desk, his head resting on his fisted hands. His eyes were closed and he was taking slow, calming breaths. Three of my professors were positioned around the small room. Each had a stern look on their face. Two of my classmates sat off to the side. One had a smug grin on his face while he eyed the headmaster patiently. I couldn't bring myself to look at the other, couldn't stand to see the accusation or judgment on his face.

How on earth was I going to explain my actions over the last nine months?

Only one person could potentially save me, and I had no idea how to reach him right now. Not only was this a problem, but I doubted he'd be inclined to help me out of this situation. He had a lot riding on this project, and he couldn't risk it all falling apart.

Frankly, I'd be lucky if I wasn't arrested or committed by the end of this meeting. All the hopes that I'd had going into this whole ordeal were, in one fell-swoop, eradicated.

The room was silent except for the ticking of the large clock located on the mantel above the fireplace. The slow, steady rhythm of the clock marked the difference in the speed of my racing heart.

After several minutes had ticked by, the headmaster sighed, raising his head and looked at me. I swallowed thickly as I met his dark eyes.

"I'm not sure what to do in this situation. To my knowledge, it has never come up before. Anywhere." He took a deep breath, breaking his gaze with me and opening the folder sitting in front of him on the desk.

I looked down at my knees, futilely playing with the crease in my khaki's. "I'm sorry, sir," I mumbled, my voice no louder than a whisper. A loud snort came from my smug classmate, and I glared at him quickly before casting my eyes back to my fascinating slacks.

"Unfortunately, 'sorry' isn't going to get us very far. We can't undo the past nine months." The headmaster started rubbing his forehead as though smoothing away a headache.

"I know, sir." I really didn't know what else to say. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never expected to be caught. But then, so many things had happened over the last nine months that had been unexpected.

"I guess I don't really understand what happened. Why did you do this? _How_ did you do this? What was to be gained by your actions?"

I glanced quickly around the room; all eyes were on me, waiting expectantly.

This was the moment where I would lose everything. I'd signed a mountain of non-disclosure statements and contracts to keep my silence. But I wasn't sure what else to do.

The last person I looked at was my Aunt, she reached over and grasped my hand, giving me a small smile of encouragement.

I looked back at the headmaster, his dark eyes boring into me. I steeled myself, preparing for the exhausting tale to come.

"It all began 10 months ago…"

* * *

AN: I've never done this before. Frankly, I'm interested in seeing how this all goes...


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Twilight character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Plagiarism is theft. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 1

The person looking back at me in the mirror wasn't recognizable. I watched as the reflection ran fingers through short locks of brown hair, remembering how only yesterday those same fingers followed the hair down past its shoulders. Now the strands were short and combed back with a few wisps falling across my forehead nearly into my eyes. The reflection wore no make-up, something I hadn't done since I was eleven and was taught how to put on eye shadow and blush. The clothes on the reflection were bulky, and they didn't show off any of the curves hidden beneath.

I sighed heavily at the reflection who was but _wasn't_ me.

_Why am I doing this again_?

I looked at the small brochure sitting on the dresser for NYU.

_Oh, yeah. That's why._

I turned away from the mirror, I couldn't look at myself anymore right now. The physical changes were disconcerting to say the least and I just needed to distance myself and try to process and get in the correct mindset.

Instead I focused on the task at hand—packing. I needed to pack all my supplies: clothes, toiletries, books, personal items, etc. This afternoon I was checking into the dorms at Bard Creek Academy, an exclusive private school, for my senior year of high school.

I removed the tags from all the clothes before folding them into the suitcases. A selection of khakis, sports jackets and dress shirts were waiting for me in the dorms, having been ordered from the school's clothing department. However, I was bringing my own jeans and t-shirts, along with my own selection of shoes. It seemed odd to me that the only part of the daily dress code not dictated by the school governors was the shoes. Rules existed to control every aspect of our outerwear from the ankle up, so why stop there? Apparently, even in a controlled environment, freedom of expression starts at the bottom. As the situation called for footwear investment anyway, I took this opportunity to find a way to express myself investing in new Chucks and Doc Martins.

The new laptop which arrived yesterday afternoon was carefully stored into its new carrying case. I'd spent most of last night learning how to use it. Fortunately for me, it had been properly set-up before it made its way to my hands. I had mastered the basics of a computer, but I'm pretty sure the nuance of installing software was beyond my capabilities. I slipped my new iPod and cell phone into the front pocket of the case; both had been previously set up had arrived yesterday as well.

I was packing my shaving kit, carefully looking over each item. I had already acquainted myself with each product previously, but I wanted the reminder. Frankly, I needed the distraction. The anxiety I felt over what I was doing kept building up, and it was all I could do to keep my focus elsewhere before it consumed me. At this rate, I would need to call in for a prescription of Xanax before the day was over.

"Bella."

I jumped at the sound of my name, so lost in my own thoughts I hadn't heard my aunt entering the room behind me. "Jeesh, you scared the crap out of me," I said, clutching my chest. My nerves were already precariously taut, this unexpected interruption pushed them over the edge and suddenly I couldn't stop shaking. I took several deep breaths, trying to will my twitching muscles back into submission.

"Sorry," Aunt Vickie said sheepishly. She walked further into my room slowly, looking at the items packed in my suitcase with distain. When she finally looked at me, her eyes were full of remorse. "Honey, are you _sure_ you want to do this? I'm sure we can find another way, there are scholarships and financial aid…" She trailed off, hopelessly.

"You and I both know I need more than just the money to pay for the classes. I need the money to live off of also. Not only that, but how else would I be _guaranteed_ a way into NYU?" I sat down on the edge of my bed. "This is my chance to achieve my dream. No risk. One year, and I'm in. I have to take it."

She sat down next to me, staring at her feet. "I hate this," she muttered after a few minutes of silence.

"I know."

"Your _parents_ would hate this."

"I know," I whispered, it was true, they would have hated what I was about to do, but had they been here, perhaps I wouldn't have needed to go this route.

My parents had died in a car accident six years ago, the result of winding roads and an unexpected ice storm. Unfortunately, my parents hadn't the foresight to have a will, leaving my future to chance. However, my mom's sister, Vickie, stepped forward and accepted me into her home, thus rescuing me from a future in foster care. Vickie was a delightful, if somewhat scatter-brained woman who had never desired to marry or have a family of her own. She didn't know the first thing about children, let alone a pre-teenager, but we had always managed through the years. She had always been more of a friend than a parental figure.

Growing up, my parents always encouraged me to try many activities so as to find something that truly interested me. We learned early on that sports were not for me. I lacked the coordination necessary to play well, and more often than not found new and complicated ways to injure myself and others.

When I was seven, my mother took me to the open tryouts for a Small Tykes production of 'The Jungle Book'. The cast was composed entirely of children, only a couple of who had any acting experience. I hadn't wanted to go; even at that age I had no desire to be the center of attention. But oddly enough, I found complete enjoyment in the experience. I found that when I was immersed in my character I no longer cared for how others saw Bella Swan. The experience was completely liberating. At the age of seven I found my niche.

For a couple years I was involved in many Small Tykes productions around the city. I attended casting calls for anything my parents would allow me to. After two years, one of the directors I frequently performed with encouraged my parents to hire me an acting coach. My father was a police officer and my mother taught elementary school, neither of these occupations paid well, and I knew we'd never be able afford to get the tutoring he suggested. When I'd confided this information he took it upon himself to contact a friend of his.

Esme Cullen was a legend in the stage acting world. She'd spent her entire adult life performing on Broadway. Additionally she taught a couple acting courses at NYU and was highly sought after as a private acting coach. To this day I don't know why, but after seeing a couple of my taped performances and meeting me once, she agreed to become my coach. She also agreed to take a _huge_ pay cut for her services, taking only what I could pay her from the little amount I'd made from my performances over the years.

Every Friday night my parents would take me to the train station where I would board the train to the city. If Esme was performing, I was allowed to accompany her so I could watch from backstage. If she was teaching a class, I would go and observe the techniques, sometimes I was even allowed to participate if they needed an extra person. Saturday mornings and early afternoons were spent in one-on-one coaching activities. Then later Saturday afternoon I took the train back home.

In these private lessons I was introduced to various techniques, practiced properly expressing emotions and even took dance lessons. Despite my lack of coordination in sports, I was surprisingly graceful on the stage.

After my parent's death, our situation had to change. Aunt Vickie lived in a suburb close to Chicago, so it was no longer feasible for me to travel every weekend to New York for acting lessons. Once again Esme took it upon herself to make accommodations for me. We switched to once or twice a month for an entire weekend instead of the previous overnight sessions.

My involvement with Esme led to my desire to attend NYU for acting. Truthfully, I revered Esme and wanted to be like her in as many ways as possible. She was extremely talented, graceful, elegant, as well as warm and caring. I learned so much from her and since she attended NYU, I wanted to attend as well. I got good grades in school, and my extra curricular involvement would help, but the downfall to attending was the financing. I had no savings as I'd spent everything I made to pay for Esme's services. Aunt Vickie barely made enough for us to live on so she wouldn't be able to help me. I could always rely on student loans, but I wasn't naïve enough to think I'd make it big in acting and be able to pay off the loans without any problems.

Despite spending a lot of time with Esme's husband, inevitable considering the arrangement I had with his wife, I really didn't know him very well. Carlisle was a Doctor of Psychology and Sociology, as well as a professor and leading researcher at NYU. He was world renowned for his theories in youth development and the lasting effects of youth social interaction on later adult relationships. Admittedly, when he'd tell me about his projects the information would go in one ear and out the other. I couldn't even begin to fathom his area of expertise. Notwithstanding our limited interaction, Carlisle was the one to provide me with the solution to my problem of paying for school.

Two months ago he approached me with his proposal. He was in the beginning stages of writing a new book on the subject of male versus female dynamics in a high school environment. While it wasn't technically scientific, he wanted to send someone undercover to high school to experience the other side, essentially to provide stories to accompany the scientific explanations in his book. This was to be a long-term assignment, likely lasting the entire school year. His idea was to send me to a private school outside Chicago; the twist was enrolling me as a boy so I could report back to him comparing my previous experiences as a girl with the new experiences as a boy. I was chosen because of my acting background, which he presumed would help me to really get into the character.

Initially I was uninterested in the role. Not only would I have to leave the school I'd been attending and all my friends, but I'd have to _live_ at the school, essentially never receiving a break from my male identity. While the concept was intriguing, I knew it would also be exhausting being immersed for so long in an improvisational role.

But Carlisle knew my weakness. He sweetened the deal by offering me a guaranteed position at NYU, as well as full financing for tuition, books, and living expenses as well as a bonus. He also promised to give me full credit in his publication, and a percent of the book sales.

In 'Godfather' terms, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

After thinking about it for another two weeks, and discussing it with Aunt Vickie and Esme, I decided to take Carlisle up on his offer. He told me he'd take care of as much of the pre-work as he could, including getting me into the school, and getting fake documentation for me, such as a driver's license and school records. We decided to keep my new name similar to my real name, so Isabella Swan was reborn as Isaac Swan.

To make my feminine build more masculine we employed the use of an upper body suite. The custom made suit fit my real body like a glove while at the same time the stiff padding lessened the curve of my hips and breasts, making it seem like I had a lightly muscled chest and shoulders. A special pocket was sewn into all the boxer briefs to allow a prosthetic to be inserted providing me with the correct look in my pants. I blushed furiously when Esme had explained this to me, as well as when she gave me the prosthetic. My busy life hadn't left me a lot of free time for dating, so my romantic interaction with the opposite sex was extremely limited. I'd never given much thought to where a guy kept his junk.

I cut my nails short, stopped shaving my legs and practiced walking, talking and sitting like a teenage guy. I found I had to change even little things, like how I ate, or how I sat on the couch when watching TV or reading a book.

I held off on the haircut as long as possible, only doing the deed the day before. A wig didn't seem practical for a nine month on-going project. My brown hair had gone past the midway point of my back, since I hadn't done more than trim it in over five years. I cried when the stylist pulled it into a ponytail and made the major cut. I donated my hair to 'Locks of Love'. I figured that way at least something good would come of the most dramatic physical change for this project.

Aunt Vickie had been fully supportive of the whole process. However, as we got closer and closer to this self-imposed exile I was about to embark upon, she seemed to be feeling guiltier about my situation and her involvement—or lack thereof. I don't know if it was some sort of latent responsibility surfacing, or if she was simply ashamed at what my parent's would think of her parenting. Either way, her sitting in my room the day she was dropping me off at Bard Creek Academy, reminding me how life would be different if my parents were still alive was something I didn't need.

"Look, Aunt Vickie, I know you're concerned, and I appreciate your concerns. I am fully aware of what I'm about to do, and I realize this has got to be the most unconventional way to get into college e_ver_. But NYU is what I want, and this is really the only way I'm going to be able to get there without sinking to my eyeballs in debt." I reached over and grabbed her hand. "Please, I need you to support me in this. I don't think I can do this without one person on my side. It's gonna be hard enough being by myself at school."

She groaned after a few more minutes of silence. "Fine," she huffed. "But you promise me you will call the second you change your mind about this whole ridiculous situation."

I grinned at her. "Will do. Now, I could use some help packing since we have to leave in an hour."

She rolled her eyes at me, but helped me to finish packing my bags and boxes before loading them into the car.

Two hours later we were pulling through the large, iron gates of Bard Creek Academy. We followed the long drive up to the front of the school, parking in a turn off near the entrance. Bard Creek Academy staggered the arrival times of their students over the course of three days to limit the chaos of 800 students arriving for the new school year. About 20 other cars were lined up along the turnout. I felt a little self-conscious noticing the makes of the other cars: Mercedes, Lexus, and Audi. Aunt Vickie's old Ford Explorer didn't exactly fit in with these cars.

I climbed out of the car, warily taking in my surroundings; the expertly manicured lawns and neatly trimmed bushes only accented the ostentatious nature of the brick structure.

Aunt Vickie walked to the front of the car slowly, she too was obviously overwhelmed with the place. Finally, she looked back at me. "Come on. Let's go get you checked in."

I took a deep breath trying to calm my racing heart…it wasn't working.

We walked up the steps and through the main entrance of the impressive school. Inside were a least a dozen other students and their families, each talking with a member of staff, identifiable by the crest on their jackets, the same crests which matched the crests on the uniforms.

"Hello, welcome to Bard Creek Academy. I'm Doctor Weatherby, the physics instructor," a tall man with graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard declared stepping in front of us and reaching a hand out towards Aunt Vickie.

"Um, it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Vickie Richards and this is my…um, this is Isaac Swan. We're just checking in." She took his offered hand, glancing at me nervously. Understandable since this was the first time she'd addressed me by my 'new' name.

"Of course you are," he replied reaching to shake my hand. "Follow me, son, and I'll get your information packet."

He led us over to a table lined with heavy folders emblazoned with the school crest.

"Let's see…Swan…Swan…Swan. Ah, here we are. Isaac Swan. Ah, new transfer, I see." He handed me the maroon folder. "Inside you'll find a name tag, which we expect to wear today and tomorrow then again on Monday for the first day of classes. You'll also find your class schedule, room assignment, information on your roommate and information on your staff mentor. Please also familiarize yourself with the rules booklet. We don't want you getting into trouble for violating a rule, particularly if it could be easily avoided." He finished with a small chuckle.

"Uh, yeah. Of course not." I mumbled as I tried to attach the required name tag to my t-shirt.

"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Weatherby asked looking between my Aunt and me.

"Um, I'm not sure…" I trailed off.

"I understand this is your first year here at Bard Creek so you probably will come up with many questions by days end. You can ask your roommate or find any member of staff. We all want you to succeed and would be more than willing to help you." A proud grin spread over his face as he spoke about the school.

"Okay, great. Thank you," I answered, trying to contain my eye roll. I would appreciate his enthusiasm more if I didn't know how much he made teaching at this pretentious—I mean prestigious— institution.

"Now," he said clapping his hands together, "you probably want to go find your room and set up. So, go back out to your car and follow the turn off to the left of the school. Keep following the path until you come up to the dormitories. Girls dormitories are on the left and the boys dormitories are on the right."

"Thank you for your help, Doctor Weatherby. I hope I'll be seeing you around." I smirked, channeling my inner snob, while reaching out for his hand once more.

"Of course. Oh, don't forget about the 'Welcoming' event tomorrow evening. It _is_ mandatory and takes place in the courtyard between the dorm buildings."

He shook our hands again before we turned to make our way back at to the car. Aunt Vickie drove back to the dorms, parking in the lot between the two buildings. She looked over at me.

"No matter what happens, you will always be my beautiful niece. Please remember if you need me, I'm just a call away."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Ready to do this?"

"Almost, just give me a second," I said, trying not to hyperventilate as the panic swelled in my chest.

_I can do this. I am smart and talented. This will get me into NYU and help me to achieve all my dreams. I am strong. I am confident. I can do this._ I closed my eyes and chanted my mantra in my head over and over while taking deep breaths.

Esme and I had worked on Isaac Swan's character profile. _Isaac_ was charismatic and out going. _Isaac_ wasn't afraid of a challenge, though he wasn't much of a fighter and would rather settle a problem with words and thought. _Isaac_ was checking into a new private school for his senior year of high school. _Isaac_ was equal with his peers in terms of finances and intellect having attended a private school in New York City for the last few years.

When I opened my eyes, I was calm and collected. I had immersed myself in the role I was to play. I _was_ Isaac Swan, high-school senior boy.

"Let's go," I said with determination, opening the door to the SUV and walking around to the rear of the vehicle to grab a box filled with bed linens and towels. Aunt Vickie grabbed one of the rolling suitcases and followed behind me.

The central courtyard house a large water fountain, a cement walkway surrounded the fountain, breaking off in rays toward the various dormitory buildings. Large, neatly trimmed grass patches were between the cement walkways. A few students were milling about talking, and a touch-football game was taking place in one of the furthest areas. Having checked my paperwork and map in the car I head toward the Benedick building. Composed of stone structures with regal columns framing the entryway, the buildings looked more like miniature mansions rather than school dorms.

I walked into the dorm only to be met by a member of the staff. "Welcome to the Bard Creek Academy Boys dormitories."

I looked at him blankly.

_I can do this._

After all, this was The Experiment.

* * *

AN: As I said before, don't really know what I'm doing. Oh, well!


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Twilight character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Plagiarism is theft. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 2

The large man in front of me raised his eyebrows expectantly. I could only assume I he had asked a question and I'd missed it.

"Um, what?" My voice cracked slightly as I tried to make it sound a bit more masculine. I cleared my throat, hoping he would assume that was the problem.

"I wondered what room you're assigned so I can help you find it easier."

"Oh, yeah. I'm assigned to room 518."

"Okay, I'll take you up there." He took a step towards Aunt Vickie. "Let me take those from you, little lady," he said with a leering smile on his face.

Aunt Vickie giggled giving him the handle to the suitcase. I rolled my eyes and followed the two of them to the elevators. She started flirting with him, touching his arm and giggling as he talked. I'd have to remind her that my situation was precarious enough without having to worry about her trying to get with my professors. Typically Aunt Vickie was an open book. I don't know if she preferred honesty, or was simply to flighty to come up with, and remember, lies. Either way, she'd out my secret if she spent too much time with this guy.

When the elevator opened, we were led down a wide corridor, modern looking despite the age of the buildings façade. Each maroon doorway was adorned with golden letters announcing the room number. We stopped halfway down the long hallway in front of the door labeled '518'. The big guy gave two short raps on the door before trying the handle. All the rooms had locks on them, but either my roommate hadn't arrived, or he hadn't chosen to lock the door when he left because the door swung open easily.

The room wasn't very big. Immediately to the side of the door was another door which led to a private bathroom. Down a short hallway from the main entrance was the main room. Twin beds were located on either side of the room, and two desks were side-by-side against the far wall. The small walk-in closet appeared to be on the other side of the small hallway from the bathroom.

It appeared my roommate had indeed checked in already as half the room was already set-up. The bed covered with a comforter of blue and green and a couple of pillows, the desk was covered with books, paper and pens, while a few football posters hung on the wall above the bed and a couple of pictures lined the bed frame shelf.

I set my box down on the empty bed, taking in what would be my home for the next school year. The big guy parked my rolling bag next to the bed.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he said, clapping his large hands together. "If you have any questions, or need any help, I'll be in the building all day, so come and find me." He reached over for my Aunt's hand, shaking it warmly and winking before turning to leave.

"Well, he sure seemed friendly," she gushed, "and so handsome, too."

This reminded me. "Aunt Vickie, no. You can't go trying to get into the pants of any of the professors here. You'll blow my cover."

"But…"

"No! I can't have you risking my future on a meaningless fling! Please? I'm begging you to just leave him alone."

"Fine," she huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder as though what I asked was a huge inconvenience to her. "I guess it would have been bothersome anyway, I mean, it takes an hour to drive out here."

I rolled my eyes, pushing her towards the door. "Come on; let's go get the rest of my stuff from the car."

Two more trips between the car and my dorm room were necessary to bring in all my bags and boxes. I began unpacking my clothes, hanging or stacking them in the closet. Two small dressers were on either side of the closet, so I was able to store my socks and boxers in it. I saw no sign of my school uniforms and made a note to check on them tomorrow if they still hadn't arrived.

With my clothes put away, I moved to unpacking my computer, printer and books. Aunt Vickie was setting up my bed with the dark blue bed set I'd purchased. The desk had a couple shelves beside it, so I set up my school books, along with the luxury reading books I'd brought. I set the printer up on the lowest shelf beside the desk, fortunately, the printer was wireless and had already been set up to work with the laptop. I could only imagine what would have happened if I needed to somehow connect the printer. Actually, I know what would have happened; I would have never used the printer and found some other way to print off my assignments.

I put the laptop on the desk, and silently hoped I could find someone later to help me connect to the school wireless internet system. By the time I'd finished with the desk, Aunt Vickie had finished with my bed and was setting up the few personal items I'd brought; a picture of my parents, a picture of her and an old family picture from when I was small. She had already attached my reading lamp to the headboard and had started to bread down the boxes so we could store them, and the suitcases, under the bed.

Admittedly, my side of the room was rather plain compared to my roommates'. I didn't bring anything to cover up the plain, taupe-colored wall, and my sheets matched my comforter in color, giving the bed a dark monotone appearance. But for now, it would have to do, after all, boys don't care about decorations; the color aesthetics of a room are insignificant to them.

I took my toiletries to the bathroom, putting my hair products in the on the shelf in the shower and my shaving kit in the cabinet under the sink. While everything of my roommates' was clean and organized now, I secretly hoped it would remain as such. I didn't relish the idea of spending the next school year with a messy teenage boy.

Aunt Vickie was sitting on my bed, staring at her hands as they twined themselves together over and over.

"Hey," I said, nudging her foot with mine. She looked up at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "You know it'll be okay. It's only one school year, then it's over."

"I know," she croaked. She cleared her throat, before standing up and wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "I know you can do this, and I understand your reasons..."

"But?"

"But I wish we could find another way." I sighed and she squeezed me a little before releasing me from the hug. "Okay, enough of that, I'm sure it isn't a very 'manly' move to be hugging your aunt," she said chuckling while wiping away a few escaped tears.

"Thank you for understanding and supporting me through this." I rubbed her arm soothingly.

While I loved my Aunt dearly, I suddenly needed her to go. I found it too difficult to remain in character with her and slipping would simply lead to disaster. Fortunately, she seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts.

"Okay, kiddo. I'm going to head out. I want you to e-mail and call me whenever you can, alright?" I nodded. "You know, there are very few people in the world who I think could actually pull this off. You're one of them. I'm sure the next year won't always be easy, but I have faith in you."

I hugged her again tightly, soaking in the last little bit of Bella Swan I'd be seeing for a while. I kissed her cheek while giving her an extra squeeze. "Love you."

"You, too. Be good, sweet girl," she whispered before returning my kiss and breaking the hug.

I walked Aunt Vickie to her car. After staring the old SUV she rolled down her window. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything, sweetheart. Oh, and try to have some fun. You are a senior, after all." She grinned and waved as she pulled out of the parking spot.

I stood for a while watching her drive away. Strange how only now did this whole thing seem real. I'd been preparing for the last month and a half, but as Aunt Vickie drove away, the last vestiges of my duel personality dissolved with her. Surreal, I guess, would be the appropriate term.

I don't know how long I stood there lost in my own thoughts, but when I was suddenly brought back to the present I decided I'd probably spent enough time standing like an idiot staring into space.

Slowly, I made my way back to my dorm room. I figured it would probably be a good idea to look over the contents of the maroon folder the Physics professor had given me at check-in.

I got in the elevator with another arriving student and his parents. The guy appeared to be my age, he stood a few inches taller than me and had sandy blonde hair. As I entered the elevator, he looked at me with embarrassment in his baby blue eyes. I didn't understand the look until the doors had closed.

"Oh, my baby boy! I'm just going to miss you so much," the boy's mother cried. She had her arms wrapped tightly around the boys arm and was shaking with her tears.

"Dear, we go through this every year. Must we do it again?" the man asked in annoyance. The contrast between him and boy's mother was almost laughable.

I glanced at my fellow student again the embarrassment still clear on his face before slightly rolling his eyes. I smirked in reply looking back towards the elevator doors as they opened.

I was surprised when they followed me down the hall, the mother continuing her rants about her 'poor baby boy'. Fortunately I was able to get into my room and close the door securely before laughter overtook me. Perhaps it was because my own parents had never doted on me like his, but I found the whole display to border on ridiculous.

The maroon school folder was tucked with my school books on the desk shelf so I retrieved it before flopping down on my bed. I'd only been here for a couple hours and I was already exhausted. I kicked my shoes noisily to the floor, wiggling my toes and reveling in the relative freedom of escaping their leather prison.

Opening the folder I decided first to look for my class schedule. I still had another free day before classes began, but I wanted to get an idea of what was in store. I looked over the list: AP English, Math, AP Physics, Chemistry, Gym, Advanced Drama…nothing out of the ordinary.

When Esme and I had developed _Isaac_'s back story we decided to keep _his_ life as close to my own as possible. This was primarily due to the long-term improvisation of the role. Essentially it would be easier for me to remember the details of _Isaac_'s life if it closely mirrored my own. For this reason I was enrolled in the Advanced Drama course. I was actually excited to take the class as I'd never taken a drama course through school before; with Esme as my personal coach I'd had no reason to.

The next sheet I pulled from the folder was a thick glossy one with the picture of a red haired woman on it. After reading the first paragraph I realized this was the introduction to my mentor, Dr. Ammelia Lawrence.

The teacher mentor program at Bard Creek Academy was supposedly one of the paramount opportunities provided to the students. The unique set-up of each professor personally mentoring 20 students through their school experience was successful, coveted, and duplicated by other private schools. According to my introduction sheet, Dr. Lawrence was the drama teacher. The irony was not lost on me and I snorted, pleased I was alone for the embarrassing noise.

I hadn't gotten any further in the folder when I heard the door to the dorm room open. I hadn't locked the door, but figured the intruder was probably my new roommate so I rolled over to the get myself off the bed.

When I'd gotten into the upright position I was met with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen on a living person. I was mesmerized for a moment before realizing just how close we'd come to stand as I had gotten up.

"Whoa," I said, taking a step back.

The guy grinned as he stuck a hand out towards me. "Hey. I'm guessing you're Isaac, right?"

"Yeah." I extended my own hand to his, feeling his large one engulfing my own. He gripped firmly and gave a customary two pumps before releasing. I was surprised at how large he seemed to me. He stood at least a head taller than me and had broad shoulders attached to long, thick arms. I realized we hadn't been standing close at first, his size in the small space of the hallway just made it appear that way.

"It's nice to meet you. Look's like we'll be bunking together."

"So it would seem." I stuck my thumbs into my pocket to keep from fidgeting. I hadn't gotten far enough into my packet to see anything about my roommate and I found myself somewhat disconcerted at my lack of preparation.

"I didn't recognize your name, and I don't recall seeing you around before. This your first year at Bard Creek?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." He started walking back towards the walk-in closet. Only then did I notice that he was all wet. His dark colored hair was slicked back messily, and his grey t-shirt was covered in dark grey spots that clung to his frame. "So where did you go to school before?" he called out as he entered the closet. As soon as he was out of sight I lunged for the maroon folder hoping to find his information sheet, so I at least would know what to call him.

"Um, I attended Wilson in New York." I heard him rummaging through drawers as I frantically flipped through the stack of papers.

"Wow. Impressive," his closet-muted voice said. "I've heard good things about them." His voice got louder at the end and I turned my attention back towards him. What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks and forget everything I was doing.

_Oh. Dear. God._

My roommate had come back in the room wearing only a pair of athletic shorts. He'd removed the wet t-shirt, as well as his shoes and socks. In my time in the theater I'd seen men without shirts on. However, something about this guy made my throat close up and my hands shake. His skin was pale and smooth, and the muscles of his stomach and chest were well defined. I found myself wanting stare at his body, an action that would most assuredly cause me humiliation. As it was, my slight hesitation was embarrassing enough and I quickly dropped my eyes back to the folder in my hands.

Caught up in trying to avoid looking back at my roommates body I had forgotten what we had been talking about.

"Um…yeah…" I hesitated not sure what to say in a conversation I'd forgotten. So I decided to redirect. "I'm sorry. I haven't gotten far enough in here to find out your name."

He chuckled. "Don't apologize, I should have introduced myself properly. I'm Edward Masen."

I looked back at him, actively keeping my eyes at his face and not allowing them to wander. "Edward. Good to know."

He ran his long fingered hand through his wet locks. "So, Isaac, you into sports at all?"

"Yeah…" I drawled out. "Not so much. I'm a great supporter, but I'm a terrible player. I tend to be uncoordinated at the best of times. You get me on a field and I become a hazard to anyone in a 10 foot radius."

Edward chuckled again. "Well, thanks for the warning."

"Well, just pray you don't have gym class with me. If you do, I recommend getting extra health insurance. You might need it. Ironically, you get me to do the same stuff as you would on a field, but instead on a stage, and I can pull it off flawlessly. For some reason passing understanding, God decided not to give me natural talent, only stage, or _pretend_ talent. Go figure," I babbled.

He smirked and shook his head. "'Kay, I'm going to take a quick shower. Some of the guys had a pick-up football game. When I'm done, since you're new, I'll take you around and introduce you to some people. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks, man." I nodded. As soon as he turned around my eyes roamed his back. The muscles were just as well defined as the front and I bit my lip.

When the door to the bathroom closed I fell backwards onto my bed and started beating my hand against my forehead.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

This became my self deprecating mantra. How was I going to put up with a whole school year if I couldn't even handle my first encounter with the gorgeous guy with whom I'd be rooming?

Honestly, I didn't really know what was wrong with me. I'd never reacted this way before to anyone. But then, I have been feeling more anxiety today, and therefore, more aware of any little change or difference. I'm sure it wasn't abnormal of me to observe a fine male specimen; I just noticed it more today because of my already frazzled nerves. I'm sure this was a perfectly logical explanation for my behavior, or lack thereof.

The sound of the shower turning on pulled me from my mini rant. Unbidden, the image of Edward's body standing under the shower floated to my hormone addled brain. I sighed, pressing the heel of my hands into my eyes.

_This year just got more difficult._

* * *

_AN: You all are super cool! Yeah...that's all I got..._


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